


Stamina

by TrufflesTheMushroom



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: A Matter of Manly Pride, Drinking, Golden Pair - Freeform, How to Train Your Stuntman, M/M, No Stamina, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrufflesTheMushroom/pseuds/TrufflesTheMushroom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oishi and Kikumaru would be perfect together, except Kikumaru's stamina problem never quite goes away. After college, Kikumaru pursues his dream of becoming a pro stuntman, but even when things are going well he can't seem to find contentment or peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stamina

-

-

Kikumaru thinks to himself, dimly, hazily, that he ought to feel at least some measure of embarrassment. The air around them is still warm and sticky, the two of them heaving with unsteady gulps of breath and clinging to each other loosely on Oishi's bed, mouths red and raw. Kikumaru is still half-in Oishi's lap, a conspicuous and inelegantly smeared stain blossoming over Kikumaru's crotch, making it impossible to hide what has just happened.

He has come in his pants while in the throes of the best make out session he's ever had in his entire life, and he hadn't even been touched there once.

Actually, no. Technically he had been rubbing up with Oishi through their clothes at the time, and the friction (barely there but still there, maddeningly, intoxicatingly) had been enough to drive him over the edge, spilling everything in him outwards in a muffled cry against Oishi's mouth.

Somehow, Kikumaru is half-aware, he ought to feel that inevitable burst of shame anytime now. It'll probably hit him in a moment and he'll feel a sudden urge to untangle his fingers from the back of Oishi's neck, to jump back in horror and to squeak his apologies, and perhaps to run away and hide. Somewhere where his complete lack of stamina won't ever be a problem ever again. But the air is still warm and sticky and he's even a little drowsy from the wave of ecstasy that just hit him like a bullet train without any warning, and he takes the opportunity to savor the moment (however fleeting) to gaze without any fear into Oishi's eyes.

What he sees there is nothing but awe, and euphoria, and love. Oishi's warm eyes flick back and forth across his face, down his body, over the wet stain and up again, eyes screwing up with the warmest smile in the universe. His arms are still sturdy around Kikumaru's back, hands broad and firm, holding him steady as Kikumaru sways a little from the glow that hums from his groin, dimly aware that he's getting sticky and gross but unable to do much about it.

Oishi bites his bottom lip (still swollen and red) and leans forward a little, until their sweaty, hot foreheads touch, and he draws Kikumaru in until they're flush from chest to crotch, pulling him in with an arm curling around the small of his back, either uncaring if the wet smear gets on him or kind of into that, maybe.

"Eiji," he whispers, sounding as far away from disgusted or teasing as possible, and he rubs Kikumaru's back in slow, methodical, comforting circles as Kikumaru slowly realizes that he's still half-twitching from the shock of his orgasm. He says his name like it's magic. He looks at him like he's beautiful, like he didn't care that Kikumaru came in his pants like an idiot, like he's just in love-

And that feeling of embarrassment never arrives. At that moment, at least.

-

That night, after Kikumaru clumsily lets Oishi peel off his ruined clothes and wakes up from the haze long enough to watch with some measure of throat-catching elation and some measure of filthy glee as Oishi comes apart under his hands, they finally get those stupid clunky words out, but only for show. The need to communicate these kinds of things with words left them when they entered high school and firmly integrated themselves into each other's lives without so much as a "gokurosan". It's for clarification purposes only. They know that they're already exclusive, that they only want each other, that they'll stay with the other for as long as the other will have them.

Which is pretty much forever.

"That is, if we live that long," murmurs Oishi into Kikumaru's sweat-soaked hair, and then Kikumaru privately thinks to himself that even if he won't, Oishi deserves to.

"You can just keep me in shape and healthy when I'm a huge star and we'll be together till the Earth is zapped to pieces by aliens," whispers Kikumaru, and Oishi laughs.

-

Their dating life isn't perfect, except when it is.

-

After high school, and after many nights of calling each other at two in the morning just to hear the other's voice again, they hesitantly ask their parents for a loan on a tidy little apartment just outside of Tokyo. Rent is still tight, but Kikumaru makes bank on tips at the coffee shop (older women love to press extra coins and bills into his hand in exchange for a demonstration of his famous handstand) and Oishi's tutoring service is a hit with the younger girls (as their parents only look for the most trustworthy tutors, and Oishi's is the most trustworthy face in Japan). Between medical school, a more basic university (albeit with a very strong acro dance team) and work, the two really only see each other at night. But it's enough.

-

One of the most notable scientific discoveries of the Heisei period (in Kikumaru's opinion) is that sucking Oishi off is the most amazing thing in the world. It very quickly climbs to the top of his list of favorite things after only a minute of doing it for the first time, right above brushing his teeth, gymnastics, bug collecting, listening to music, and eating snacks.

He hadn't known it would feel the way it did when he initially pushed Oishi down on the couch and smothered his protests with kisses before snaking down with a sly grin. He hadn't known it would immediately spark his oral fixation with the solar flares of a thousand suns, that it would feel so good to have Oishi's thick, hot cock sliding in and out of his mouth, that it would feel so warm, so close, so fantastic. It's better than he could have imagined- he shows off in his heady rush of glory by swirling his tongue around the tip once, experimentally, and is immediately rewarded with a bitten-off cry and hands reaching down to grasp, tremblingly, into his hair. He hadn't known it would be like this. If he had, he'd have done it a long, long time ago.

Kikumaru looks up once he realizes Oishi's probably making a cute face. He is. It's almost alarmingly sexy, his teeth clenched together with the effort of keeping his hips steady, hair in disarray out of carefully gelled-back shape, eyes hazy and unfocused with that gorgeous flush creeping around his cheeks and dusting over the bridge of his nose.

It's that sight that does him in, and Kikumaru's famous stamina problem is once again an inconvenient issue, as with a few rough strokes into his palm Kikumaru comes with the base of Oishi's dick crammed into his mouth.

-

The list is once again re-arranged when, in what feels like an eternity but was probably only about ten minutes, Oishi separates their faces with a soft plop and trails his wet lips down Kikumaru's torso, pausing only to mouth at his chest and the peaks of his jutting-out hipbones to carefully, firmly, almost worshipfully draw Kikumaru's newly erect cock into his own mouth.

The effect is instantaneous- it's almost as good as when he was sucking Oishi off. A strong contender for the second spot on the list of favorite things. Oishi's mouth is hot and wet and the hands that wrap around his pelvis are strong and steady, and when he draws partially off in one slow, long suck only to take it all in again in a rush, the second place spot is solidified, probably set in stone for forever.

Kikumaru knows that Oishi's eyes have never left his face, that even when he tries to bury his head into the crook of his arm and cool his reddening face into what he hopes is a sexy flush Oishi is watching him, drinking in his reactions. He suspects that Oishi feels a little powerful, a little like he's somehow supporting and serving Kikumaru when he steadies his jittery, jerking hips and presses his ass down into the sofa. It's maddening. It's breathtaking.

It's too much. Kikumaru almost hates himself when he feels the precipice sneak up behind him and swallow him whole in no time at all. He hardly got a chance to really savor it. All he feels, all he knows is the sound of his own gasping breaths and thin, reedy cries, the warmth of Oishi's mouth sucking at his cock, those strong hands making him feel safe and loved and oh shit oh shit oh shit oh-

He blanks out when he starts to feel himself flooding Oishi's mouth, and when he comes to he immediately starts to babble away his mortification.

"Oh no, oh shit, Shū, I'm so sorry, I should have warned you-"

He feels like a total ass, and even through his lovely, wonderful, glowing haze the guilt starts to creep in around the edges. Oishi warned Kikumaru just in time for him to pop off and gauge the taste of his come before deciding to swallow- he hasn't given Oishi the same courtesy and Kikumaru tries to scramble up to his elbows (though his limbs feel like soba noodles) to better offer his apology.

He freezes at the sight in front of him.

Oishi has dissolved into a puddle of flesh at his lap, spilling nearly out of his outlines in a mass of melted boyfriend. His face is tucked halfway into the junction of Kikumaru's leg and hip, so that he can only see a sliver of his face, heated and glistening and blissful. He's smiling almost euphorically, and it looks so fucking dopey that Kikumaru's initial reaction is to stifle a nervous laugh until he notices that his own come is shining at the corners of Oishi's mouth, and the very obvious spurt on Oishi's own bare thigh is threatening to drip into the upholstery.

It takes him a while to piece it all together in his post-orgasmic haze, but he doesn't remember a single time Oishi's hands have left his hips during the whole ordeal, and the thought that Oishi came by only sucking Kikumaru off is preposterous-

-and yet-

"That… That… I might want to do that every day now," Oishi confesses, voice sounding a little broken, a little giddy, and more than a little bit out of it. He sounds distant, like he's re-assessing everything about his life and coming up with the answers to the mysteries of the universe from the taste of Kikumaru's come still pooling at the corner of his mouth. As Kikumaru finds his fingers moving of their own accord to card softly through Oishi's ruined hair, he sighs and rubs at Kikumaru's thighs slowly. "I liked that."

"Me too, Shū," says Kikumaru, for lack of anything else to say, weak and breathless.

-

To their intense mutual disappointment, sucking each other off at the same time is actually pretty awful.

In theory it sounded like it would be amazing, but Kikumaru quickly figures out that it's basically useless, and a waste of a perfectly good orgasm. They both come within thirty seconds of starting, too soon to really enjoy it, and they find through trial and error that that won't change. It isn't worth it, especially when neither can see the other's face.

Kikumaru would have written off the whole experiment as a total failure if it hadn't tangentially lead to Oishi's discovery of a new use for slick and also the location of that sweet spot inside Kikumaru's ass that made him completely blank out for a century.

-

Their anniversary is spent at their favorite amusement park, and Kikumaru falls asleep on the bus ride home.

-

It's when Kikumaru and Fuji are drinking together at that new izakaya outside of Taka-san's sushi place (it's now really Taka-san's) that the idea starts to form in Kikumaru's mind.

"My favorite thing is when Shū's in my mouth and he's going crazy," Kikumaru slurs into his yakitori and karaage. He peers suspiciously into his food. Is he only babbling so much because he's half drunk, or because he doesn't see Fuji nearly enough and wants to inform him of too many personal details as a desperate way of making up the lost time, or because he wants to brag? Kikumaru isn't rightly sure, but he is sure that he's going to eat all of the chickens in Japan if the shochu keeps flowing the way it is. "He's so hot when he's just feeling what I'm doing. 'S better than anything else. Better than life. Better than strawberry toothpaste. That looks gross, by the way."

"Hmmm," Fuji replies with that same mysterious smile of his before popping another one of his frighteningly spiced tsukemono into his mouth. "How cute." It's rather unfair that he has been drinking as much as Kikumaru, but appears almost totally unaffected.

"I mean it. Can't imagine anything better. I really love him. I love him," babbles Kikumaru, his head drifting down on to the table. "And I miss him. He'll be back in four days but that feels like foreeeeeeever."

"It'll be okay when he does get back," Fuji promises, all comforting smiles and a thin hand patting at his head. "Then you can tell him that in person."

"He knows," Kikumaru mumbles, head in his arms. "We're the Golden Pair. We don't have to say it. I really love him, you know."

"You've told me so."

"Do you know about love? 'Cause love is so nice. You deserve this feeling too."

"Hmmm," Fuji hums again, but this time he smiles to himself and it looks a little secretive. Looks like juicy gossip.

Kikumaru perks up a little at that. "Don't tell me that-" Did it go all right with Fuji after all?

"My favorite thing is when he comes in my ass," says Fuji brightly, casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.

Kikumaru chokes on his karaage and doesn't know whether to congratulate Fuji on his successful romantic pursuit or to whine at him about suddenly springing too much information on a drunk friend. In the end he decides on both, and a comfortable aura of two very satisfied men sharing one very satisfactory drink settles over them once more.

Until-

"Comes in your ass? You can feel that?"

"A little. But it's about that connection, too. The way they look. It feels different that when you're looking up from their lap. It's a delicious feeling," muses Fuji, and it's only then that Kikumaru notices the unfamiliar glint in Fuji's eye and realizes that his friend is drunk off his feet. He never would have noticed if he hadn't seen that glint. It's terrifying.

"You're terrifying," he comments, and Fuji smiles and it's even more terrifying than before. He looks like he's about to neatly fold the money on the counter and leave to find his man and eat him up with a side of konnyaku. Having your partner come in your ass must be amazing.

Kikumaru doesn't forget that morsel of information, even when he tries valiantly to erase any mental images of his former tennis teammates that it might have inspired in his mind with the last of the bottle of shochu.

-

One night, Oishi comes home, dismayed at a light blue envelope in his hands. "It's from Koizumi," he sighs at it, placing it on the table and rubbing at his face tiredly. "The girl I tutor on Thursdays."

Kikumaru takes one curious look and immediately cracks up. "She drew hearts all over the envelope! How cute!" 

"This isn't funny! Now I have to quit that job. I can't go on tutoring her, morally, and what're we going to do about the money?"

"I'll take double shifts at the shop till something comes up," Kikumaru promises, hoping to all of the gods of the earth that it won't tire him out too much to spend time with Oishi in the evenings.

-

-it's too good it's too good it's too good it's too good it's TOO GOOD-

"S-S-Shūichirō!" Kikumaru screams into Oishi's neck, scrabbling for purchase with blunt fingernails as warmth bursts from his crotch, not a minute after he was pressed firmly on to the bed and driven into by Oishi's lap. His entire body rocks with the force of the orgasm that threatens to split him apart from deep inside him, and it's all he can do to just hold on to Oishi's broad shoulders and choke and tremble and nearly cry.

Oishi just holds him tight, breathing heavily and shaking himself, clenching and unclenching his hands where they're holding Kikumaru, sweaty and twitchy. Kikumaru wants to say something- anything- "I'm sorry I came so fast, I'm sorry my stamina is shit, I love you, please keep fucking me-" but the only sound that comes out of his mouth is something between a sigh and a keening whimper.

No, that's wrong. He tries again. "K-k-keep going-"

Oishi just rubs his hips, his stomach, his shoulders, reaches up to cup his cheek with his clean hand. He swallows Kikumaru's pitiful protests with a deep kiss and when they part he's muttering something under his breath that Kikumaru has to strain to hear-

"I'm sorry, Eiji, sorry, sorry…"

Wait, sorry for what?

Kikumaru is confused until Oishi braces himself with one hand pressed down next to Kikumaru's head and one hand steadying his waist, and then he's pulling out, slowly, slowly-

-ohgodwaitohnoohshitohfuckpleaseohshit-

Figures that he'd be so sensitive afterwards. He shuts up Oishi's stupid apologies with another kiss, but it's mostly to hide his own face, embarrassed and disappointed with himself. He finds out in dismay shortly afterwards that he can't goad Oishi into just fucking him until he finishes too- something about feeling guilty or whatever- and no matter how he whines Oishi just gently guides his hand to knit with his own around his (still hard and slicked-up) cock.

Oishi comes in his hand and though Kikumaru's still reeling from his first ever fuck he's still a little upset, inside.

It was just something about the way Fuji sounded when describing it, and Kikumaru fucked it up by being useless in bed, as always.

-

The call comes when he's out buying the week's groceries, so when Oishi greets him at the door thrumming with excitement, he's caught entirely by surprise.

"Shū, I got us these really big Chinese cabbages for a third of the price. They were on sale. We can have a fry tonight if you want- Shū?"

"Eiji," says Oishi, breathless, beaming like the sun's going to die of embarrassment from being shown up by a human being, and even before Kikumaru can reach the door he's being enveloped my Oishi's strong, warm arms and drawn inside, into the light of his (their) home.

"C'mon, spill, don't be a tease," Kikumaru squeals, sticking out his tongue. "Is Tohru-chan finally getting married? Or is Risa pregnant? Or did Ochibi win that thing at the thing-"

"You got the job."

Kikumaru drops the cabbages.

And then it's a whirlwind of kisses and whoops and hollers and bouncing up and down. Kikumaru's so excited he can't even feel his toes as he bounds around the apartment, tossing bits of a shredded cabbage leaf in the air like makeshift confetti and he rejoices, "I got the job, I got the job, I got the job!"

"I always knew you could," says Oishi firmly, grinning. Radiant. "Now they'll see who's going to be the best stuntman in Tokyo."

"The best stuntman in Japan," Kikumaru shrieks, doing a somersault across the hallway and doing a double front flip back just because he can. "I can't believe it. It's not even a tour, it's local, it's right outside of town, even. We won't even be separated, this is amazing."

At this, Oishi falters a little bit, but the light quickly goes back into his eyes and he sets his hand on Kikumaru's shoulders in that deliberate way that signals another over-serious heartfelt declaration.

"I… I would've let you go even if it were a tour, Eiji-"

"Don't even say that," says Kikumaru, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "That isn't even funny. Now come over here and give me my victory blow job."

Of course, he means whipping Oishi's trousers off and smushing his face into that soft, flat piece of skin beneath his bellybutton in celebratory bliss.

-

Afterwards, with the cabbages in the fridge and the lights turned down, Kikumaru murmurs into the back of Oishi's shoulder, "You didn't really mean that, did you? You'd have made me take the job?"

"I would have missed you. So much," Oishi whispers back, in the dark.

-

At first, Kikumaru's convinced that he's a genius. He pops off of Oishi's straining cock with barely-disguised glee and wipes his mouth across the back of his hand, looking up at Oishi with what he knows is his best Desperate Sex Kitten face. Making it obvious that he's already opening himself up on his fingers he whines, "Fuck me, Shū. I know you're close but- Please. Please."

His plan is foolproof. Sneaky blow job to 90% completion, finish off with an orgasm at the same time, make sure Oishi finishes in him so he can watch and fall in love all over again.

Except when Oishi arches over him and Kikumaru's face is shoved into the mattress and he's sliding and his hands are everywhere and it's so hot and-

Kikumaru screams into the pillow and Oishi was close, so close- he tenses and holds Kikumaru through his shakes and then immediately eases out, flips him over, and ruts against his hip until he's hoarsely calling his name into his temple and splattering over Kikumaru's ribs.

Dammit. Damn it all.

All those years ago, exercising and training was enough to extend his stamina on the tennis court and win the National Championship multiple times. But he was a kid then, and no amount of training now will help him last a full day of exertion, or more than five minutes in bed. Kikumaru doesn't feel like much of a man. He doesn't rightly feel like much of anybody.

-

In the end, ironically, what Kikumaru had been harboring no small amount of self-consciousness about is what lands him the deal.

"That scar is real rugged-looking. Tough," says the director, peering closely at the thin white line marring Kikumaru's right cheek. "Do you mind joining the extras roster? There's a line in the second act that's perfect for a face like yours."

That is how Kikumaru's face ends up in the movie as well as his heavily disguised explosion-dodging, and how he becomes a bit of a celebrity back in their old neighborhood. Everyone wants to hear him say the line, over and over again. Kids especially. Even Kaidoh Hazue and all of Momo-chan's little mini-Momos get in on the fan action.

Kikumaru never minds indulging the audience. It's fun. He's doing well. Kikumaru Eiji is a real stuntman now. Life is turning out all right.

-

Not.

-

Kikumarui's face is crammed into Oishi's chest as tight as it'll go. He won't breathe, can't dare to make a sound. Nothing is more important than smothering any noise that might escape his traitorous mouth, and the pain of stifling himself through the waves of the highest ecstasy Kikumaru has ever known is almost unbearable. But he'll do it. He'll do it for Oishi, he'll do it for himself. He has to-

"Eiji," comes a distant voice from somewhere, reverberating through him, but Kikumaru valiantly ignores it and just holds on.

Until the voice gets louder, and more and more frightened. "Eiji. Eiji! What's wrong? Oh god, please say something-"

But it shouldn't be frightened, nor should Oishi look this frazzled as he immediately stops rocking his hips into him to scrabble frantically at the tangled, tight knot of thin boyfriend clutching at his neck. Oishi shouldn't be frightened. Why would he be frightened?

"Eiji, did I hurt you? Please-"

"Keep going," says Kikumaru roughly, using his free hand to reach down to grasp as hard as he can at Oishi's ass. Perhaps then he'll get the message.

He doesn't.

"T-t-t-then why are y-"

Best to come clean.

"I'm…" Without the leverage around Oishi's neck Kikumaru lets himself pry slightly away from being pressed flush against Oishi, shyly revealing the hand he has wrapped hard and unforgiving around the base of his own cock. It shouldn't be this embarrassing, because being wrung and flushed and worn in front of Oishi was never new, even when they used to play tennis, but it is. Kikumaru curls up into Oishi again, wishing that he would just get the hint.

He doesn't, apparently.

"Wha… I don't-"

And all of the tension, all of the shame and worry and secret self-loathing bubbles to the surface like the ugly brown foam skimmed from the top of soup, and Eiji snaps at the sheets, "Because I'm a weak little man with no stamina, and because you won't fuck me after I finish, and because if I don't do this today I might never get to see what face you make when you come in my ass." He's starting to shake from the exertion, and Oishi's still in him, nudging that sweet spot that sings beneath his eyelids, and he feels like crying because he's just admitted to something very painful and he wants to come so badly-

"So keep going, already-"

"Eiji, I love you. I'm not ever going to continue… in… you after you're done," Oishi hisses, and Kikumaru looks up in alarm, forgetting that he's supposed to be embarrassed for a split second. The expression he sees surprises him. It's not annoyance, or exasperation, or even guilt. Oishi looks as if he's about to cry, too.

"… Shū-"

"It hurts if I keep going after you finish, right?"

… Oh.

OH.

"If… If I promise it doesn't hurt, will you keep going? Even after I come?"

"But it does, right?"

"No. Not if you gimme a bit to recover," Kikumaru whispers, flushing even more, shaking his head a little bit. "I… I know that's asking a lot of you, to just… stay inside me for a while afterwards, but… I want this. I want this so much."

"I don't want to hurt you. Or to use you."

"I want this," Kikumaru whispers, and with that he finally lets go of the base of his own cock and smooths that palm over Oishi's stomach instead. "Please."

"Eiji."

"Shū."

Kikumaru surges up just as Oishi bends down, and they kiss and it feels like he's on fire and Oishi moves and finally, finally the release he's been biting back for what feels like an eternity rushes through him like a tidal wave, he is soaring through space, he is in love.

When he comes to again, he sees the fine tremors moving through Oishi's arms as he keeps them planted firmly at either side of Kikumaru's head, biting his bottom lip and screwing his eyes shut with the effort of keeping still. Kikumaru reaches up, wonderingly, carefully, and cups his face with both hands to bring him down for another kiss. Slower this time. More grateful. And when he draws out to nod once and whisper, "Keep going," Oishi does.

It doesn't hurt.

And the thing about stamina back when they played tennis is that Kikumaru always got tired very, very quickly. But when Oishi gave him time to recharge, he found that with his partner by his side, the Golden Pair could survive anything, win everything, live to be a thousand years old, their names written in the stars.

As he feels Oishi's hot, maddening dick slowly slide in and out of him again, hitting that sweet spot, Oishi's half-smothered gasping whimpers of pleasure coursing through his body and piercing into Kikumaru's soul, he feels himself get hard again. Oh god, it feels so good.

"Shū," he chokes out, pressing himself into the soft tautness of Oishi's stomach, and this time he can hang on till he feels that warm spurt deep inside him, feels the tremors wracking Oishi's body from his very core, and sees with his own eyes that naked, vulnerable, beautiful face sobbing into his own.

-

The movie wins this award or that accolade and breaks whatever record, and Kikumaru's suddenly got calls and auditions enough to keep their landline busy all day. He half-considers spraining his ankle on purpose just to spend a little more time with Oishi. The fact that he can have such stupid idle thoughts now that life really is going well makes him smile, and he skips around the set with no small amount of glee, meowing, until the director calls him up for his shot.

-

"I can't believe you were harboring some complex about that," Oishi murmurs into the base of his neck, the both of them huddled under the covers, waiting to see the sun rise and peek through the blinds.

Kikumaru resists the urge to squirm at that, or to cross his arms lying down like a child. "It's not a complex, Oishi Shūichirō," he mutters darkly. "It's a matter of manly pride."

"It's kind of…" Oishi trails off, and then Kikumaru notes with some interest that he begins to redden from the tips of his ears down.

"Kind of…?"

"F-f-f-flattering."

What.

Kikumaru swivels in Oishi's arms to throw his best glare at him, and Oishi falters and tries to retrace his steps, flustered.

"N-no, wait, not flattering. Cute? Adorable? S-sexy? I love you I love you I love-"

"If you don't shut up I'm going to smash your face into our wedding cake in front of all the cameras," Kikumaru squeaks, indignant, feeling his face start to blossom as red as the tint he shampoos into his hair. "And then you'll be sorry."

Surprisingly, the flustered babbling quiets down at that. Kikumaru didn't know the threat of the prank would be so effective. Until, in the half-light, Oishi's voice stutters out almost casually-

"So you'd marry me, then. For real."

Kikumaru rolls his eyes at that, fighting down the flush that's creeping down to his neck. "I might not've really known it at first, but to me, we've been married since we were twelve. But I'm still holding out on getting a party out of it. So, yeah. Get with the program."

"W-w-wait-"

"So you thought that when I kept saying I'd become Japan's best stuntman and you'd be my personal trainer and doctor and best friend for until the Earth gets destroyed by aliens, I was joking? Geez."

And he's just about to roll over in a huff when Oishi's strong, broad, warm hands peek out from beneath the covers to gently (so gently) cup either side of his face. In the blue morning light Kikumaru can just make out those eyes, the curve of that smile that radiates in his own personal sunbeam. Oishi leans forward until his head is resting on Kikumaru's pillow, their foreheads touching.

"Eiji," he whispers, like his name is magic, and there isn't any embarrassment anymore.

It all just melts away.

-

-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading through my unbeta'd filth. Inspired almost wholly by getting back into Tenimyu after a seven-year-long hiatus, this was very cathartic to write and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Every comment is precious to me, so please leave one if you can.


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